Window to His Soul
by Mistress-Samwise
Summary: *COMPLETED!* “Your eyes are the windows to your soul… Keep them from the Light and all you and your soul will know is darkness…” Can Frodo love himself enough to love another? *MAJOR* Frodo angst! PG-13 for violence and swearing.
1. A Quote & Dedication

_"Before a man can fully understand a fellow human being, he must first understand himself.  And only then will he truly be able to love."_

_-Anonymous_

_*~~*~*~~*_

_This story is dedicated in memory of Golden Wolf's "The Heir", perhaps one of the greatest works of LOTR fan fiction ever published at this site._


	2. Blindfolded

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_"Your eyes are the windows to your soul… Keep them from the Light and all you and your soul will know is darkness…"_

            Frodo was running. He could not see where he was going for his eyes were blindfolded and no light was able to come in, but he did nothing about it. Great pain, a mixture of fear, anger, and sorrow engulfed his mind, leaving him in a panic. A roaring sound as that of a raging river could be heard in the distance, echoing ominously.

            Tripping over rock and root, Frodo stumbled forward, not knowing or caring where he was going. A damp earthy smell floated heavily on the air. The only noise was that of the deafening torrent and his own footfall. With a sudden lurch, he fell onto the cold leaf covered ground.  He didn't try to stand up again, but rather he stayed there, an icy pain gripping at his body.

            Then Frodo heard the sound of slow steady footsteps. They came closer and closer until they stopped right beside him. He heard the rustle of clothing as he felt someone kneel in close to him. He felt the blindfold being untied and removed from his face. Now that his eyes were free, he was able to see his surroundings. Grey weathered trees with long twisted branches stood as silent sentinels, their bare limbs covered with nothing but a few sickly leaves. The sky hung low and overcast, threatening to burst with rain at any moment. He still heard the river but couldn't see it anywhere.

            Frodo turned over to see who was next to him. It was Sam. His face was streaming with tears. His fist was tightly clenched about the blindfold. Frodo stared at Sam for a moment, noticing that he looked somewhat older, like a full-grown hobbit. It seemed like he was trying to say something, but before he could, Frodo furiously tore the blindfold from his grasp. Sam was very distraught from this and watched painfully as Frodo tied the cloth back onto his head. He stood up and darted off into the forest again.

            Frodo ran faster this time. The din of the river grew louder and closer with every step. Soon he felt the spray on his face. He then stopped to stand at the river's edge. There were voices, tortured voices, lost within the roar of the water. He strained to hear what they were saying. They were saying something, but what?

Were they warning him away or calling him in? 

Slowly, he began to step into the shallows. There the pull of the water was not so great and the foam swirled around his ankles. The voices rang more clearly and he heard words, clear crying words. His eyes widened with shock. He finally realized what was happening, but it was too late. He felt like he was being dragged into the rapids, but with or against his will he did not know. Then he was swept away in the powerful current. Quickly he grew tired of resisting the violent flow and he sank into the murky depths of the river, slowly giving into the darkness until he could feel nor breathe anymore.

---


	3. September Twenty-Second

---

            Frodo whipped himself up with a choked back scream, dripping with sweat and his heart pounding out of his chest. It had all been a nightmare and he had started to inhale his blanket. Feeling rather shaken, his head fell back onto pillow and he laid there, trying to get a proper breath of air. He had nightmares before, but none of them were as frighteningly realistic as this.

            Now that he was calm again, Frodo was able to smell the breakfast his uncle was cooking.

            "Uncle Bilbo, please," Frodo shouted. "Your singing was so loud that it woke me up!"

            "I'm sorry," Bilbo answered back. "I was just trying to sing an old Elvish song."

            "Yes, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo chuckled. " 'Trying to'."

            "Now, that's not very nice!" Bilbo said, far from being stern. "Is that how you treat your uncle on his birthday?"

            "It's my birthday too, you know!" Frodo cried defensively.

            "And that means today is going to be a busy day for the both of us," Bilbo stated. "So come out here and eat some breakfast. A hobbit can't run without food, especially my favorite nephew!"

            September was a busy month in the Shire. Harvest began, as did the preparations for winter, and there was Bilbo Baggins's birthday party. Hobbits from all over the Shire came. Being such a rich and prestigious hobbit, Bilbo could more than afford to pay for such festivities. This year he would be five past one hundred years old. It wasn't a terribly momentous occasion, but Bilbo's parties always made it seem that way. Of course, all of this overshadowed Frodo Baggins's birthday, of which fell on the same date as Bilbo's. He was within a few years of his coming-of-age, but he was still in his late tweens. He was a very shy fellow and didn't mind the fact that Bilbo got more attention on his birthday. Anyways, this would mark six years to the day that Bilbo had adopted him, so today was a very special day.

            Frodo dressed quickly, and forgot his dream just fast. He would be able to see all of his cousins from Brandy Hall, including Merry, and at the party there would be good food and plenty of music, and maybe there would even be a present or two for him. He was hoping that Gandalf would come, for he hadn't seen the old wizard for years.

            "Come on, Frodo," Bilbo said. "Your breakfast is getting cold!"

            Frodo knew that he didn't want that to happen, so he hastily made his way down the long smial hallway to the kitchen. Plates of eggs, bacon, muffins, and many assorted pastries littered the table. He sighed at the fact that this was a meager meal, but he thought it best to save room for the party. Bilbo scuttled back and forth around the room, but Frodo couldn't help but notice a curiously wrapped package on the counter.

            "Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo asked inquisitively. "What's that parcel over there?"

            Bilbo stopped for a moment. "Hmm? Oh, yes. It came last night. I forgot to tell you, but I was just so busy, what with the party and all—"

            "Who's it from?" Frodo broke in.

            "Gandalf," Bilbo stated, placing the package on the table.

            "Couldn't he just have delivered it himself?" Frodo furrowed his brow. "He is coming, right?"

            "Oh, about that…" Bilbo answered reluctantly. "There's also a letter."

            Bilbo took an envelope from under the strings on the package. It had already been opened, so Frodo was afraid Bilbo knew something he wasn't telling him.  He drew the letter out and read it aloud.

            "Dear Bilbo and Frodo… I'm very sad to inform you of this, but I can't make it to your birthday party. I have been called away on important business and it is necessary that I'd be there. My sincerest apologies to Frodo. I'm sure you are as disappointed as I am, so I sent you this book. Happiest of birthdays to the both of you… Signed Gandalf."

            Frodo slumped back in his chair. His deep blue eyes shone with disappointment.

            "I'm sorry, Frodo," Bilbo apologized. "He is a wizard, after all. I bet he's off at Rivendell or someplace like that. Think of that book as a birthday present."

            Frodo untied the strings and tore away the paper. A brown leather-bound cover stated lively gold letters forming the title "Famous Elf Tales". His eyes lit up as he examined the tome, flipping through the milky white parchment pages with jet-black lettering. Pictures of kings, warriors, orcs, and elves displayed tales of bravery against evils so fearsome that Frodo couldn't believe that those things once happened before.

            "You should be very careful with that," Bilbo pointed out. "It's not everyday that you get a book like that."

            "Of course I will," Frodo stated beamingly. "It's a pity you're not in there, Uncle Bilbo. You could be the most famous hobbit in Middle-earth!"

            "I'm afraid I already am," Bilbo sighed. "I'm the only hobbit in history to actually make history. Big folks may like all that stuff, but other hobbits certainly do not!"

            True, men, elves, and dwarves rejoiced greatly when Smaug was slain, but when Bilbo went back to the Shire, the hobbits saw him only as a troublemaker, more Took than Baggins. Hobbits are not the kind to go on adventures and view them as strange and unruly. A hobbit's home was a smial, not a distant elf palace or dwarf kingdom.

            "If all hobbits went on adventures, I'm sure they would think much better of you," Frodo said in a stately manner. "They just don't know how much fun they are."

            "You're quite right, my lad," Bilbo agreed. "But if they all went on adventures, I would be just another hobbit. Then again, it's how you are different that makes you who you are, right?"

            Frodo nodded his head enthusiastically. He was proud that his uncle never let those things get him down. That's why he thought of him as more of an uncle than a cousin.

            Just then there was a great rapping at the front door.

            "It's Merry… and… Pippin!" Frodo exclaimed. He jumped up and darted off for the door.

            "How do you know?" Bilbo asked, surprised.

            "Secret knock," Frodo called back while letting his cousins in.

            "Yes, we've had it since I was five," Merry added.

            "Right, and I supposed you used it to let young hobbits in the smial and raid pantries?" Bilbo asked, raising an eyebrow.

            "Oh my, no!" We would never do such a thing!" Merry cried in mock defense. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

            "A whole month's supply of strawberry preserves gone missing, perhaps?" Bilbo retorted coolly.

            "Rubbish!" Merry spat. "You must have eaten them all without noticing. Anyways, Sam is at the door."

            The rapping at the door was indeed Sam's secret knock. Frodo opened the door and let the hobbit in.

            "Four partners in crime, eh?" Bilbo inquired, finding that there was more to the hobbitlads than what met the eye. Sam was huffing and puffing, leaning over with his hands on his knees.

            "I'm sorry I'm late," he said, out of breath. "The Gaffer made me finish up the yard work before I could go and I had to run all the way here."

            "That's quite alright," Bilbo commented and he turned to face the other three hobbits. "May I ask why all of you are here?"

            "Frodo said that we can help with the party," Pippin announced.

            "Really? Did he now?" Bilbo questioned incredulously, gazing over to Frodo, who was laughing nervously. "You four usually create more problems when you try to help than when you try to make trouble."

            "Can they at least stay?" Frodo pleaded, his blue eyes shining like an innocent child's.

            "Yes, please, can we?" Merry begged. "See? Look at 'im! Who can resist those eyes?" He then pointed to Frodo's eyes, and for effect, Frodo added the trembling lip and the clasped hands. Bilbo stared at him for a moment, trying to keep a serious look on his face.

            "Alright! Alright!" Bilbo surrendered. "They can stay. But please, put them somewhere out of the way! Remember, no helping."

            "Yes, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo smiled. "I'll make sure they won't help in any way. Did you hear that? You guys can't help out today."

            "Rats!" Pippin scowled. "I was looking forward to helping."

            "Don't get your hopes up, Pip," Merry told the youngest hobbit.

---

mistress_samwise: Alright, alright, I'm bad with chapter endings! -__-;; Don't worry, there will be angst soon.


	4. Enter Dreena

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            The day was clear and sunny. A swift breeze blew across Hobbiton, doing little to cool the earth from the late summer sun. The four hobbitlads were seated at a table outside of Bag End, on a spacious lawn at the bottom of the Hill.  It was long length-wise with the road bordering the fence. From there, one could survey the layout of tents, tables, and chairs laid out the previous day. The most noticeable things were the three large barrels at the end of the yard, filled with ale, cider, and cordial.   Though this layout was not as impressive as some past celebrations were, or as some future ones.

            Frodo brought outside four tankards and filled them with spicy apple cider. He distributed them amongst his peers and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the sky, watching the fast moving wisps of clouds float away.

            "This is a beautiful day, isn't it?" he asked offhand, taking a sip from his mug.

            "Yes. A perfect day for a perfect cousin," Merry added, raising his tankard. "To Frodo Baggins on his twenty-eighth birthday."

            "Here, here!" the others joined in, raising their tankards too. While they toasted to Frodo, a middle-aged hobbit strode quickly past on the road in front of the fence. Trailing behind, there was a hobbitlady who stopped to loudly call to someone.

            "Come on now, sweetie!" she shouted. "You don't want to be late!"     

            "Coming, mother," a very peeved voice answered.

            The hobbitlads turned from their drinks to see what all the fuss was about. The hobbitlady tapped her foot impatiently as a young hobbitlass ran up.

            "Do I have to?" she whined, yet in a polite manner. "He's not even relation!"

            "I know that, honey," the hobbitlady replied while straightening out her daughter's dress. "Mr. Baggins and your father are friends, and you don't want to disappoint your father, do you now?"

            "Of course not, mother…" the lass responded almost mechanically. Her eyes drifted over to the hobbitlads sitting at the table.

            "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Hello!"

            She then waved cheerfully to the boys and then quickly turned to her mother.

            "Could I stay out here with them instead?" she begged. "They look about my age."

            The older hobbit examined the lads from afar.

            "Alright, dear," she said. "You can meet Mr. Baggins with your father later. Just remember to introduce yourself politely and please don't cause a ruckus."

            "Yes, mother," the lass relied monotonously. While her mother marched off, the hobbitlass trotted over to the gate and came over to the other side of the fence to stand in front of the lads.

            "Good morning," she stated ecstatically.

            The hobbitlads were confused at this sudden confrontation. First of all, she had only just arrived and she was acting like she knew them for quite some time. She was very energetic and friendly, and had a wonderful smile. Her stormy gray eyes conveyed her emotions as easily as Frodo's crystal blue eyes. But the second thing that really caught the lads was her hair. She had long flowing curls, and what's more is that they were golden flecked with brown. Blonde hair was very rare in the race of hobbits, so any hobbitlad would be astounded to see any girl with hair like this lass's.

            Sam was the first one to respond to the hobbitlass in the same immediate manner as she had.

            "Er… How do you do, ma'am?" he asked plaintively, standing up and bowing low. The other three stopped gaping and quickly realized what to do, standing up haphazardly.

            "I'm doing quite fine, thank you," the lass responded. "My name is Dreena Longburrow, daughter of Dreebo Longburrow from Girdley Island."

            Frodo was totally enthralled, his sapphire eyes unblinking. Dreena was the most stunning lass he had ever seen. He couldn't say anything until Sam nudged him in the side.

            "Um… It's nice to meet you," Frodo said nervously. "Well… My name is Frodo Baggins… Son of… Er—"

            "It's his birthday today," Merry broke in, practically reading Frodo's mind. "Yep, he's 28 today."

            "Really?" Dreena inquired. "That's great! Now I remember your name. You're Bilbo's nephew, right?"

            "Actually, he's my cousin," Frodo pointed out. "Thought I like to think of him as my uncle. These two are my cousins, too. Meridoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. And this fine young hobbit is my friend Samwise Gamgee, though he's more like a brother to me."

            "Why, thank you, sir!" Sam exclaimed, blushing.

            "Enough of all this introducing, already!" Pippin commented. "Isn't time for your birthday speech, Frodo?"

            Frodo laughed nervously. "Speech? N-no, that's not necessary—"

            "Come on, Mister Frodo," Sam broke in. "You don't have to say anything fancy." 

            Dreena bounced with excitement. "Oh, yes, please! I'd love to hear a speech from you!"

            Of course, Frodo found it quite hard to say no to her, even though he dreaded speaking in front of people.  He often grew very tense when being the center of attention. It was something he never really expected from others. But he was with his friends, so that helped him a little.

            Frodo climbed up on top of a chair and then cleared his throat.

            "Ladies, erm, lady and gentlemen," he stated, grinning nervously.  "Friends and cousins, fellow hobbits… Some of you I've know for all your lives and, uh, some of you I've just met…" He looked over at Dreena, who was smiling encouragingly. He blushed.

            "I… Ah…" he continued. "Um… Yes, but in my twenty-eight years I've been amongst the greatest hobbits in all of Middle-earth, and I'd my time with you to be twenty-eight years more."

            While he stepped down off of the chair, Frodo's peers applauded him for his little speech. By that time, he was relieved that it was all over. He smiled beamingly and sat back down, lightly clutching his stomach. He felt a little woozy. _Perhaps it's the heat_, he thought. _I was really nervous, after all. Nothing more…_

            Frodo took that all in disregard and decided he should drink some more cider. It was fairly humid that day, for the sun hung in a nearly cloudless sky, and the quick breeze was the only thing preventing him from over-heating. He downed massive gulps of the cider and then felt better.

            "So… What do you guys do around here for fun?" Dreena asked.

            "I don't know…" Frodo said, but was quickly cut off by Pippin.

            "Oh! I know! Let's go fishing!"

            Merry agreed.

            "Yeah! That would be fun."

            Frodo sighed and nodded his head.

            "Alright. But since it's so nice out, instead of fishing by the Water over here, let's go down the road a bit."

            "I know the perfect spot!" Sam added.

            Frodo stood up from his seat.

            "I'll just go back in and get the stuff."

            Dreena decided to tag along with him as he strolled back to Bag End. After stepping in through the front door, he was able to see Dreena's father conversing with Bilbo.

            "Oh, hello, Frodo," Bilbo said, facing his nephew. "I see you've met Dreena, right?"

            "Yes, Uncle Bilbo," replied the hobbitlad.

            "Let me introduce Mr. Longburrow to you," Bilbo declared.

            "Hello, sir," Frodo said, shaking Dreebo's hand. "Nice to meet you."

            "A pleasure meeting you, too," Dreebo stated, smiling politely.

            Frodo then turned to his uncle.

            "Bilbo? My friends and I wanted to go fishing. Is that alright?"

            "Yes, my lad," Bilbo replied. "Be sure to come back in time."

            Frodo nodded his head enthusiastically and darted off for his room. Dreena followed behind. The hobbitlad was digging around in a closet, scattering its contents all over the floor.

            "Where are those fishing poles?" he asked, aggravated. Dreena peered over his shoulder, occasionally dodging something he threw out of the way. 

            "Oof!" she exclaimed, suddenly taking a shirt to the face. Frodo stopped to look over his shoulder.

            "Huh…? Oh!" he cried, plucking the shirt from off her head. "I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

            "Yes, I'm quite fine, thank you," she answered, smiling. Frodo blushed to his ear tips. 

            "Um… Are what you're looking for over there?" Dreena asked, pointing to several fishing poles leaning on a dresser.

            "That's where I put them!" Frodo realized. He took them under his arm and grabbed a pocketknife from on top of the dresser, placing it neatly into his pocket. He strode out of the room and back outside, with Dreena trailing behind. Now all five hobbits made their way down the road and out past Bag Shot Row. They went past many hobbitholes before they came to a wooded area beside the Water.

            "Here's the place," Sam pointed out. "It's the best spot in all of Hobbiton."

            The Water slowly meandered by, and was not as fast as the Brandywine, so it was a great place to fish. The sun gently climbed in the sky, casting her warm rays onto the earth. Days like this were made for five young hobbits to spend at the water's edge.

---

_mistress_samwise: Argg! I hate doing chapter endings! o Angst soon. Don't fret! If anything seems unexplained, it will all be cleared up!_


	5. Old Wounds Reopen

_Mistress_Samwise: Hello! I'm, like, back! Soooo…I had to up the setting thing-gummy to PG-13 for, um, future junk. Uh, yeah. Nothing much yet, though…There is Elvish. I'm really bad at it, so if you're, like, some sort of expert and you read it, you'll be like "Whoa! What was she smoking when she wrote this? This is totally whack, man!". Well, maybe not, but I won't be surprised. Anywho, I'm working on Lord of the Rings at Half Budget, but I've been busy with this and my website *coughcoughvisititpleasecoughcough*. Uh, yeah, I'll shut up now._

---

            By that time it was already noon and one of the only things casting a shadow was the huge tree Frodo was sitting under. Of course, he never really went into the water. Since he was the oldest, he had to watch the younger ones, anyway. Dreena didn't mind much for the water, either, so she went to join Frodo.

            "Merry seems to be having a lot of fun," she stated, watching him splash water onto Pippin and Sam.

            "He's a Brandybuck. What do you expect?" Frodo said, pulling out his pocketknife. The handle was inlaid with many semiprecious stones in intricate designs. When he flicked out the blade, it shone brilliantly as if it had its own light.

            "Wow!" Dreena cried. "What is that?"

            "It's an Elven knife," Frodo declared, carving away at a twig. "Bilbo got it with all his stuff from his adventure.  Too bad its not mithril."

            The hobbitlass silently marveled the device until Frodo spoke up again.

            "I never got around to asking, but why are you here in Hobbiton today?"

            "I came here for Bilbo's birthday party," Dreena explained. "My father is Bilbo's friend. They know each other from the market. My dad's a pipeweed connoisseur and he has happened upon an interesting cross between Old Toby and Longbottom. Crosspollination has been done before, but this particular strain has produced a more fragrant leaf."

            "Well, Uncle Bilbo sure knows his pipeweed!" Frodo laughed.

            "Mind you, this is not the first time my family's been invited to your uncle's birthday party," Dreena clarified. "We've been coming here for a few years. It's a long trip from Girdley Island to Hobbiton, so we have to stay at the Green Dragon."

            "I think I can remember you from before…" Frodo said while looking up thoughtfully. 

            "I can remember you," Dreena stated and then paused for a moment. "Yes… But you were never around the other kids. You would have been fun to talk to."

            "I'm not very social," Frodo mumbled, still whittling on the twig. He then remained silent for a while, not looking up from his work. Softly, he began to sing a very sweet-sounding song.

_"Ai! Sut cormamin lindua!_

_Vanimle sila tiri, tiri ae I'anor_

_Lirima ae elenea ar' edhil_

_Poika ae sheela_

_Amin mela lle yassen ie uve haelamin_

_Ai! Sut cormamin lindua ele lle!"*_

            When he finished, he slipped the blade back into its handle and placed the knife back into his pocket. Dreena was breath-taken by the beauty of the song.

            "Did you make that up?" she asked after a while.

            "No," Frodo answered. "It's an Elvish song."

            "It was beautiful… In the way you sang it, I mean. What does it mean?"

            Frodo's face grew red.

            "Oh, nothing… I don't really— I mean, I only know a little bit of Elvish."

            "Then do you know what any part of it means?"

            "No… I, uh, just thought it sounded nice."

            "It certainly did."

            Frodo then grew very quiet, not knowing what else to do or say. Then his attention turned to a surprised shout from Merry.

            "Hey, Frodo!"  Merry cried. "Come look at this!"

            Frodo ran over to see what all of the commotion was about.

            "Pippin pushed me into the water and when I came back up I had this!" Merry then held up a large fish, wriggling to get out of the hobbit's grasp.

            "Good job, Merry!" Frodo congratulated the younger hobbit. He went back to sit under the tree next to Dreena. "I can't believe that the rest of Brandy Hall is going to be here with him. It's going to be crazy!"

            "So that's where all of those hobbits come from!" Dreena exclaimed.

            "And I used to live there," Frodo said. "Do you know how hard it is to eat your food without somebody else taking it? Or to find a room with less than three hobbits in it? But sometimes I miss them all…"

            "I understand. Sometimes I miss my sisters and brothers. I'm the youngest of six hobbits and I'm the only one that hasn't moved away yet. Sometimes I get really lonely."

            "If it weren't for Bilbo and my relatives at Brandy Hall, I would have no family to live with. At least you have a mother and father…" He paused for a moment, fiddling with the sharpened twig. "You never know how much you love someone until they're gone forever…"

            Frodo pulled his knees up under his chin and stared at the ground.

            "I… Ah…" Dreena fiddled with the lace on her dress. "I'm… Sorry…"

            "That's what they all say…" Frodo grumbled. Dreena hung her head, her face marked with shame. Frodo gazed over at the lass with a concerned look in his eyes.

            "Forgive me, Dreena," Frodo apologized. "I didn't want to be unkind to you. It's… Really hard for me. I know you meant good, and I'm very thankful about that, but nobody understands." His voice cracked. "They don't know what it's like…" He sunk to a hoarse whisper. "You don't know what it's like seeing your own parents die in front of you…"

            Dreena remained silent, feeling very awkward. Frodo, too, said nothing. His face was grim and his body tensed, clenching the sharpened twig tightly with his thumb until it snapped in two. Sensing his discomfort, Dreena gazed over and saw him looking up at the sky, welling back tears. Before she could say anything, he suddenly stood up.

            "Merry, I'm going back to Bag End," he stated, his voice shaky. "I trust you know the way back without me."

            Merry nodded, surprised at the sudden leave of his cousin. Frodo turned about and quickly strode away, throwing the broken stick at Dreena's feet. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and sucked on the tip of his thumb.

            "Damn it… Why must old wounds always reopen?" he grumbled under his breath.

            Dreena thought it best not to ask him what he said. For a while, she contemplated what had happened. She had no intention of causing any hurt to Frodo; she had already grown fond of him. There was something about him that made him different from all of the other hobbitlads. She knew that from the first moment she saw him. But she still couldn't figure out his convictions. He seemed troubled, like he was hiding something. Something he didn't want others to see. After a few minutes, she decided to follow him back.

            "I'm going, too," she announced.

            "Are you sure you know the way?" Merry asked.

            "I can remember it," she replied quickly, already starting to walk away. But she stopped and turned around to pick up the stick that Frodo had thrown onto the ground.

            _A cry for help, she thought, examining the pointed end. It was still damp with blood._

_---_

_mistress_samwise: Aiee! Onward! THE LONG AWAITED ELVISH TRANSLATIONS HAVE ARRIVED!!! But I behoove you not to use any of it. I'm bad at Elvish. But I have the translation anyway._

_*1. Ah! How my heart sings!_

_You're beauty shines bright, bright as the sun_

_Lovely as the stars_

_Pure as the spring_

_I love you with all my soul_

_Ah! How my heart sings to see thee!_


	6. Blood and Tears

_Mistress_Samwise: Eeek! It's *this* chapter! **¡WARNING!: M-E-G-A Frodo angst! Violence, some swears, and Elvish on crack! Alright, the first part is a flashback, in case you can't tell. Okay. Start the story. **_

_P.S: Here's a key to my story: Left indented italics text=thoughts. Centered italics text in quotation marks=quotes. Centered italics text in asterisks= "Evil Frodo"  _

_---_

_"How long has he been in there?"_

_"Well, he's only been out once or twice, but I'll say two days."_

_"It must be tough for him… How can any hobbit live through something like that? Scuttled on the Brandywine… Hobbits were never meant to go on the water."_

_"Aye, but he's a Brandybuck. Those hobbits practically live in the water. It's unsafe, I tell ya. Raising a lad like that and then going and drowning yourself? It's unheard of!"_

_"Now, now… Don't be so harsh. He's seen his own parents die, right in front of 'im. I would be traumatized!"_

_"Yes, but I haven't heard a peep outta him this whole time! Sure, he was cryin' to no end when we found 'im, but when he got back here, he just locked himself in his room, and he hasn't said anything since. Not a single sob or nothin'."_

_"Really? I just hope he doesn't keep all of it bottled in. Goodness knows what would happen if he never got over this. It could really wreck a hobbit. He's just so young…"_

_---_

            The sun was now past its zenith. Though the party would not start until after sundown, hobbits were milling about, too busy to notice that Frodo was nowhere to be found.

            Dreena arrived at Bag End and was wandering around outside of it in search of the missing hobbitlad. She then came upon a small copse. Peering in through the bushes, she saw that Frodo had hid himself there. He was huddled by the roots of a tree, his body rigid but quivering as he silently wept. He made no sign of noticing Dreena who was only a few feet from him.

            Tears, hidden for too long, welled up in his eyes. A lump formed in his throat, choking back forbidden sobs. He tried fighting the tears and sadness, but his memories, long forgotten, came flooding back.

_***_

_            "Frodo! Quick! Swim to shore!"_

_            "Mom…! Dad—"_

_            "Go!"_

            He barely crawled upon the edge of the shore. From there, he saw the over-turned boat in the rapid river waters, and his parents struggling above the surface. Their cries for help pierced the seemingly cold air. 

_"Help! Help! Frodo! Fro—"_

They were calling his name. For what? But he did nothing. He was frozen, paralyzed with fear. His mind was screaming, but he would not respond, would not move.

            _"Mom… Dad…"_

Then they disappeared. Forever. Swallowed by the icy waters of the Brandywine. Shouts of alarm rang aloud and hobbits, faceless ghosts in his memory, came, but it was too late. The image of his dying parents was engraved in his mind, never to be lost or forgotten.

_            "Noooo! Mom! Dad!"_

            __

He ran back into the river, after his parents. Up to his waist in the water, he vainly tore away at the water. He had realized… Could they have been calling him back in? Other hobbits restrained him, keeping him from the same watery grave as his mother and father. He clawed at them, struggling out of their cruel hard grasps. Tears streamed down his face, staining the ground.

_            "No! Let go! Let me go! Mom! Dad!"_

_***_

Frodo stood up from the ground and leaned against the tree trunk, digging his fingernails deep into the bark. He shook with sobs, tears falling down his face. It felt to him like he was in an immeasurable pit of sorrow and misery, unable to get out. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and let it eat him alive. 

_The pain is too much… But if there is no struggle, it can only go faster… Ending it all…_

_* That would seem to be the easiest thing to do, wouldn't it…?_

_But why let it consume you when you can use it? That is what you want… Let go… Embrace it…Control it…*_

His thoughts became twisted visions. Visions of pain and sufferings. Slowly, he was slipping from reality. He then bit his lip, forcing his teeth in until he tasted blood. His face was sullen, and his eyes no longer shone with light, but they were dark and fell.                   

_            I didn't save them… It's all my fault… They're dead because of me…_

_*Yes… You must pay… You must pay for what you did…*_

He bit deeper and harder. A shadow passed over his mind, causing him to fall into rage and madness. Tears blinded his eyes, but he sneered and bit further into his lip.

_*Tears are not pain. Blood is pain.*_

Now all he tasted was blood; it was seeping out of the corner of his mouth, trickling down his throat, throwing him into a spasm of coughs.

_            If there is only one thing I can control in this whole damn world, it is this!_

_*You crave power… Now it is yours… Yours to use… Yours to command…*_

            His legs trembled beneath him, and he fell onto his knees. The tears ran down his face, dripping off his chin and onto the ground. But for every drop that fell, he repaid for with blood. Unknowingly, he slowly reached for his pocket. Then he found his hand on his pocketknife, unconsciously slipping the blade out. It glinted brightly in the sunlight. He felt a flame awaken deep within his body, a dark and feral power, terrible and overwhelming. He no longer thought but acted upon this force; all free will was lost.

_            … A way…_

_*There is no Heaven. There is no Hell. There is only pain and dissolution.*_

            He pushed his sleeve up, exposing his arm. And without thinking, he plunged the blade into his skin and he feverishly screamed out in pain. The Elven blade flashed with a hellish fire, clashing with the evil deep within Frodo. Warm blood spilled out of the wound and the cold metal bit deep and painfully, but it was precisely what he wanted. His heart raced wildly with fear and excitement as the knife was pushed further into his flesh, and blood dripped off his arm onto the ground, staining the earth. His hand quivered with an uncontrollable fervor; this power was proving to be too much for his body to handle. Then the blade cut too far, and too much blood poured out.  The pain grew overwhelming. The world spun in a blur and his head swam. The pocketknife handle burned in his hand as the blade blazed furiously with an Elven flame. In the shadows of his mind, he felt a new power trying to lift him out of the darkness. The evil resisted the Light and flared up in rage. It could not give up yet, not while his body was still shrouded in hurt. He clutched at his arm, the blood soaking his hand.

_"Aiya! ie' Quesa'le! / Ona gurthamin yallume, amin ra'au en lle ! / Tel amintar'ym ar' farith! / Sana coia'amin!*" _he screamed, weeping hot tears of pain, not knowing what he had cried out. But finally his whole body collapsed while the blade slipped out of his hand. He now laid paralyzed and gasping for air, tears falling down his face.

"_Mankoi amin…? *"_

_---_

_Mistress_Samwise: **YIPE!** *hides under a giant pillow* Ahm scared! Eek! Evil Elvish! You're not making things any better! *waves stick at it* Go away! Leave me alone! Eep! *hides again* NOW I HAVE TRANSLATIONS!!! But let me tell you this first: Do not, I repeat, DO NOT try to use any of this Elvish. It is bad… Very bad. But I'll translate it for you anyway. Aaannnddd…. Here are the translations!_

_*1. Oh! ye Gods! Grant me death at last, I beg of thee! End my pain and suffering! Take my life!_

_*2. Why me?_


	7. Aftermath

_Mistress_smaise: Hi. I'm back. Please read, why not?_

---

            Dreena was frozen, her eyes wide with shock and silent awe. What had just happened? She slowly crawled over to Frodo but did not touch him, for she was afraid of what he could do. Instead, she leaned in close to him. His eyes were shut, his face stained with tears, his hand about his arm like a vice. He did not stir.

            "_T-tua amin… / Saetu…"*_

            The hobbitlass reached out to touch Frodo's hand. It felt very warm.

            "Huh?" Frodo murmured. "_Amin ha' wing…"*_

            With his free hand he placed Dreena's on his face, his cheek wet with tears and blood.

            "…Frodo…?"  she whispered. He weakly turned his head and looked at her. His eyes lit up faintly. They now seemed to shine dully with a distant light, but not as brightly as they usually do.

            "_Luthien…?" _

            "Are you alright? Your face is so warm."

            "I'm so cold…" He pressed her hand harder into his cheek.

            "But you're burning up! You need help!"

            "Yes… Please help me…"

            He drew his other hand away from his arm. Blood pooled about the small but deep wound.

            "_Quesa'le tenona amin…!" *_

Tears sprang to his eyes as he saw his bloodied hand. He closed his eyes and pulled his knees up under his chin. "Please… No more… No more blood…"

            Dreena produced a handkerchief and bound it around his arm. He was too numb with pain to notice the tightly wrapped kerchief.

            "_Amin hiraetha…"* he said quietly._

            "I need you get you back inside," Dreena stated. She pulled him up gently by his under-arms.

            "I can't walk…" he squeaked.

            Dreena cradled him in her arm.

            "That's all right. I can carry you."

            He placed his arm around her neck as she lifted him off of the ground. He seemed very light for a hobbit. Almost too light. To avoid any unnecessary attention, Dreena used the backdoor to Bag End. Cautiously balancing the hobbitlad in one arm, she opened the door and stepped in. Bilbo was out and about and Bag End had not seen an occupant for a few hours. Dreena located Frodo's room and lightly laid him out on his bed.

            "You'll need a new shirt," she stated. Looking through Frodo's wardrobe, she found a blue silk shirt with pearl buttons and handed it to him. "Do you think you can put it on by yourself?"

            He nodded his head and began to unbutton his shirt. Dreena turned around, blushing. She was not about to see him in a less than dressed state.  Frodo looked up at Dreena.

            "It's alright… I don't mind." He said, mustering a smile.

            "I'm sure you don't, but I insist upon this," she stated plainly, her back still to the lad.

            Frodo took off his shirt and placed his arm into the other one's sleeve. He sharply drew in his breath as his moved his arm. The pain was still very real.

            "Do you need any help?" Dreena asked.

            "No," he answered. "I'm fine…"

            He got the shirt on and buttoned it up. His head fell to the pillow, pulling the blanket tightly around his body. Dreena turned around again.

            "What are you doing?" she inquired incredulously.

            "I need rest… But I'm so cold…"

            Dreena felt his forehead.

            "But you have a fever!"

            "I feel fine."

            Dreena paused for a moment.

"Are you sure you're not ill?"

            "Yes," he lied.

            "Well, I'll get you some damp towels. Where do you keep the towels?" 

            Frodo sighed.

            "Down the hall in the closet…"

            Dreena then left the room, leaving Frodo alone. He looked around the room. It pained for him to move anything too much and he shut his eyes. The afternoon sunlight burned. His mind was wheeling and his heart throbbed deep within his ear.  Slowly, he brought his fingers up to the corner of his lips. He recoiled at the touch of wet blood. Tears leaked out from behind his eyes.

            _What have I become…? I want to be strong… _

            It seemed like an eternity before Dreena came back with the towels. She placed one on Frodo's forehead and began rubbing his face with another.

            "Here… Maybe this will help."

            She cleaned his cheeks of blood and tears. His face was full of despair. She could hear him sobbing quietly, but he could not cry anymore. He clenched the bed sheets in his fists. But he soon fell into a restful slumber; the last thing he felt on his face was her soft touch with the cool damp cloth.

            "_Diola lle…_" * 

~~~

            Frodo dreamt uncomfortably. All around him there was a cold pale light illuminating a vast nothingness. It seemed like an eternity in that realm. The ambience was disturbingly quiet. But off in the distance, he saw a small figure racing against the horizon on horseback. The shape was undistinguishable, but its sudden presence comforted Frodo.  It was so far away, but a familiar and almost inaudible voice whispered in his ear.

_            "Don't worry, Frodo, my lad… I'm coming…"_

~~~

_mistress_Samwise: Uh, that's all for now. Check back later, okey-day?_

_Please note that the Elvish that has been translated is very bad Elvish. Please don't attempt to use it._

_*1.H-Help me… Please…_

_*2.I'm so cold…._

_*3. Gods forgive me…!_

_*4.I'm sorry…_

_*5. Thank you…_


	8. A Rude Awakening

_Mistress_Samwise: Huzzah! I'm baaack! This is the chapter where much is explained! Anywho, I've (finally) finished the final draft of this story, and I'll be posting the parts soon. I just have to fix some kinks first. Be warned: I'm going to be seeing how much stuff I can stuff into this PG-13 rating, but that's much later. ATTENTION: If you're looking for Elvish translations, I'll just be putting them at the bottom of each chapter that they're in. So if you're looking for the translations for the last chapter, look there, okay? ^____~_

---

The sky glowed crimson, orange, and gold. The sun was sinking in the west, throwing its warm light onto Frodo's face. He slowly opened his eyes.  His whole body ached and he was covered in a cold sweat. It was hard for him to breathe; his chest felt like it was tightly bound from any movement. Lying there for a moment, he tried to gather his thoughts. He then jostled out of covers and turned to see Dreena sitting on a chair next to his bed.

            "So you're up?" she asked, the light glowing softly on her hair.

            "You've been here, watching me the whole time?"

            She nodded her head.

            "Yes… I had not the heart to leave you alone here. I didn't even remove your blanket."

            Frodo shifted his body uncomfortably.

            "What time is it?"

            "It's a little past six. You've been asleep for about five hours."

            "The party… What about the party?"

            "It was started an hour ago."

            "But… I have to be here!"

            He then got out of the bed but his legs buckled beneath him. He caught a hold of the bedpost before he could fall.

            "Oh!" Dreena exclaimed, jumping out of her chair. "Are you alright?"

            Frodo straightened himself out, straining to pull himself up.

            "My legs are just a little stiff, that's all. I just need to walk on them a bit."

            He slipped onto his knees before he could take another step. Dreena reached out for his shoulder.

            "Please don't hurt yourself— "

            He quickly drew himself away from Dreena's hand.

"I'm fine!" Frodo snapped.

            Or at least he thought he was.  Whenever he got sick (which was often), he hid it all, denying it until the last moment, when his body could not handle anymore. That usually made it all worse than it was in the first place. Now he couldn't even stand up, and he grew angry. He was fed up with how everything kept going wrong. He just wanted his life to go right for once. And we wanted the power to control that. He felt so helpless when he stood on that riverbank, watching his parents drown. Right then and there he felt all of his power slip away.  He couldn't control what had happened that day and he felt responsible for it all.

            _Why didn't I save them?_

            He would ask himself that over and over. But he could only come up with one answer…

_            I didn't have the power… I couldn't control myself…_

            Control… He wanted control… Control over his life, actions, and emotions.

_            My emotions… My feelings…_

            He always kept them in, never revealing his true thoughts and feelings.  If only he could let someone get close to him, let them know him… Let them love him.

But can he love himself?

            "Uncle Bilbo's counting on me to be there, and I can't let him down," he stated, slowly standing up again. With confident strides he exited the room. Dreena followed out behind him.

            "Wait! Are you sure you're well enough to go out there?"

            Frodo opened the door to the outside and swiftly left through it.

            "Why the hell should you care?" he snarled, looking over his shoulder. "If you can't notice, I have my uncle's party to attend to."

            He huffed off, leaving Dreena quite shocked at his sudden bitterness. She continued to follow him.

            "Leave me alone!" Frodo shouted, clearly irritated.

            "But you're still sick—"

            Frodo stopped abruptly and turned to face the hobbitlass.

            "Listen, you can't tell me what to do or how to feel! Ever since I moved to this town, people have done nothing but control my emotions. When I got here, I could no longer be 'the poor little boy who lost his parents'. Instead I'm labeled a faceless aristocrat, some bloody little brat too damn rich and snobby for his own good. I can't go out in public, I can't be seen with other people, I can't even have any friends!"

            "But I can still be your friend, if you just give me the chance!" Dreena pleaded.

            "And I don't need a creepy little hobbit girl following me around!" Frodo growled. "If it wasn't for you, none of this would have ever happened and I would be down there right now, having fun with all of my cousins. But instead I'm here, having a pointless argument with a girl whom I've only just met! Frankly, I'm surprised nobody came looking to see where you took me off to. I don't know why you're still here and what you plan on doing with me, but whatever it is, I don't want anything to do with it. I just want you and everyone else to leave me the hell alone! So _bug off_!"

            Dreena felt her anger rise and she marched over to Frodo, turned him around and slapped him across the face. He lost his balance and fell onto his side into the dirt.

            "Maybe now you've got a little sense knocked into you," she replied hotly, looking down on the hobbitlad sprawled out on the ground. "You've obviously lost your mind, Frodo Baggins, and it's not going to stay like that, not while I'm still around to do something about it. And is that how you should treat a lady? You had no right to speak to me like that. I'm trying to help you, not harm you… Now, are you going to get up or not?"

            Frodo immediately got to his feet, rubbing his cheek and dusting himself off.

            "You're right…" he said humbly. He felt small, like a bug cowering at Dreena's feet. "I should not have done that…" He hung his head in guilt. "I… I'm sorry…"

            He flinched as she stepped up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

            "Come on, now…" she cooed. "I'm not going to hurt you…" 

He peered up at her timidly. She smiled warmly. 

"Isn't that much better now? I do hope you know that I am sorry for that slap there, but I really thought you deserved it. But that is all over now. And I trust you learned your lesson…?"

He nodded his head coyly.

"I think you've had enough misfortune for one day," Dreena said. "Don't you have a party to get to? It's clearly no use trying to keep you from it."

Frodo smiled weakly and turned around and strolled off, still massaging his sore face. Dreena stayed behind for a moment, lost in thought.

            "Wait!" she called. Frodo stopped.

            "Yes?" he asked while looking over his shoulder, slowly dropping his hand to his side. Dreena caught up with him.

            "I apologize for how I hurt you…" She hesitated. An impending sense of guilt overcame her being. "It breaks my heart to see you like this…"

            "That's alright," he grinned meekly, bringing his fingers to his face. "I needed it…"

Dreena gently placed her hand on his and softly kissed him on his cheek. For a moment he seemed shocked, but he pulled his face from her lips, blushing furiously. Looking in his shining azure eyes, she saw misery and discord, and he backed away and ran off before she could say anything else.

---

_mistress_Samwise: What will happen next? What does all of this mean? Never fear, a new chapter will soon be here! And all your questions will soon be answered, eventually. P.S. I have a new story called "Waiting For the Eastern Glow". Please check it out, okay? ^___________^ Pwease?_


	9. A Proposition

_Mistress_Samwise: Yay! A new chapter! It's kinda short but what the hey! Read it!_

---

_Why did she have to do that?_

            Frodo clenched his eyes shut, keeping the tears from streaming out. He didn't stop running until he came within yards of the party. After wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he drifted over to the nearest empty table. He had just sat down when he heard a detestable voice from behind him.

            "Well, if it isn't my dear old cousin, Frodo Baggins…"

            "Lotho…" Frodo growled.

            Of all the hobbits in the entire Shire, there were none Frodo despised more than Lotho Sackville-Baggins. He was older than Frodo, and easily twice as big. Nobody was ever too fond of him or his family, for they were quiet unhobbitlike. As for Lotho, when he was younger, he was notorious for making trouble. Not childish mischief, but *real* trouble. Whenever he went to Bilbo's birthday parties (his family was never invited, but they came anyway), he would always pick on the younger hobbits, Frodo in particular. The Sackville-Bagginses were never too keen about Bilbo or Frodo, or any of the Bagginses for that matter. So, naturally, the rivalry was quite mutual.  

            "What do you want?" Until now, Frodo had successfully forgotten about the S-B's. This most definitely wasn't a good day for him.

            "I just wanted to say hi," Lotho said, painfully ruffling Frodo's hair.

            "This is not the time," Frodo grumbled.

            "Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean you have to act like that," Lotho retorted. "And that reminds me… I have some birthday punches for you, so try not to move—"

            "Frodo! Wait!"

            Dreena ran up, out of breath.

            "Hello… What's this pretty thing?" Lotho eyed the hobbitlass. "Is this why you're so late?"

            "I-It's not what you think…" Frodo stuttered.

            "Of course! What was I thinking?" Lotho exclaimed. "Frodo Baggins with a girlfriend?" He grinned darkly. "Just be sure to return her to the brothel house when you're done with her!"

            Lotho then let out a loud cruel laugh. Dreena stood frozen, blushing from head to toe.

            "Don't you dare pick on her, you bloody coward!" Frodo yelled, red with rage. "Maybe you should ask where a brothel house is yourself! Because you obviously don't have enough sense to find a real girl!"

            For a moment, Lotho seemed to be taken back by that remark, but he made a hasty comeback.

            "If I wasn't a real man, Mister Baggins, you would be dead right now. But since I know you can't fight, we'll just have to settle this another way."

            He strode over to an ale keg and filled up several mugs.

            "We will have a drinking contest."

            Frodo said nothing.

            "What's the matter, Baggins?" Lotho asked coldly. "Aren't you going to defend your precious little girl?" He placed the ale in front of Frodo. The younger hobbit squirmed uncomfortably. Lotho smirked. "Don't tell me you're scared, are you, Frodo?"

            Peering over at Dreena, Frodo saw that she was still blushing red, her eyes brimming with tears. His deep blue eyes shone with a steely resilience as he looked back at Lotho, staring at him, the gaze piercing him like a sword.

            "Offer accepted, S-B."

---

mistress_Samwise: Yo! Check out my other fics! They're so cool! Hikaness reviewed my humor fic! Yeah! Really! So that means it's got to be good!


	10. The Drinking Contest

_Mistress_Samwise: Don't you just want to put your fist through Lotho's face? I'm working on my other fic, "Lord of the Rings at Half Budget". Please read it! As I said before, Hikaness, The Pencil Show kid, reviewed it! I'm not kidding! Okay… On with the story!_

---

            Lotho was amazed that Frodo had actually accepted the duel.

            "The rules are simple," Lotho began. "The first to pass out loses. Fair?"

            Frodo nodded. He was serious, dead serious. He could never let someone insult a lady and get away with it.

            "I'm surprised, Baggins, that you got the courage to face me in a drinking contest," Lotho said slyly. "I figured you would back down, being the pathetic skinny little halfling you are. Your parents would be ashamed of you."

            "I swear, S-B, if you *_ever* mention my parents again…" Frodo hissed through his teeth._

            Lotho sneered.

            "You talk big, but can you drink as well as you chatter?" 

            Frodo stared daggers at Lotho and took the first chug. He set the mug down; half of it was gone already. He wiped the foam from his lips and waited for his opponent to make his move.

            "I'll drink you under the bloody table, Baggins," Lotho growled.

            "You can't drink if you keep talking, Lotho," Frodo grinned.

            Lotho scowled and proceeded to drink three quarters of his ale. Frodo knew this wasn't going to be easy. Even though hobbits have a high resistance to alcohol, he was still very ill. With each mouthful of liquor he swallowed, he felt sicker and sicker. True, he had been denying the cold he had for nearly a week now, and all of the things that had happened earlier didn't help much, either.

            Soon, a small crowd gathered around Lotho and Frodo. Hardly any hobbit would miss a good drinking contest. Yet the adults paid no heed to it; tweenagers did this sort of thing all the time, and intervening usually made things worse. Though when Merry, Sam, and Pippin found out, they were surprised. They rushed over as fast as they could when they heard of what Frodo was doing.

            "Frodo, have you gone mad?" Merry asked incredulously, sharing the same puzzled look of confusion with Sam and Pippin. 

            "You can't do this!" Sam cried. "You'll hurt yourself!"

            Frodo did not answer right away, but rather stared intently at the mug in his hand.

            "I have to, Sam…" he replied eventually. "There's no way I'm letting Lotho off… Not without a fight…"

            He finished off the rest of the ale, and immediately another one was handed to him. Dreena elbowed her way through the crowd and arrived at the hobbitlad's side. She seized his hand with hers.

            "You don't need to do this, Frodo!" she exclaimed, choking back tears. "It's too much!"

            Frodo slipped his hand from her grasp, almost as if he was angry.

            "No… I have to defend you…. It's my duty."

            Dreena remained wordless for a moment.

            "… Frodo…"

            She was then pushed aside from him, as was the rest of the crowd. Rules stated no outside interference, but she had to pried from his side.

            "Please, Frodo!" she said, pausing. "…Be careful!"

            Frodo then smiled weakly at the sound of her voice and drank the remainder of his present mug and felt another one shoved into his hands. His vision was going blurry, his hearing distorted. He knew not where each new ale came from, but his only goal was to keep drinking. Cold sweat rolled off of his forehead. He could feel his skin burn as his fever returned. He struggled to lift up the mug. His body screamed with pain as he strained to lift his arm, the mug threatening to slip out of his grasp. But a soothing voice calling his name drove him to bring the glass to his lips. He sipped the ale and found that this one tasted particularly bitter.

            _Drugged…_

            And that was the last thing he thought he before he passed out.

---

Mistress_Samwise: Oh no! What'll happen next? Find out, in the next chapter of "Window To His Soul"!


	11. Reflections

_Mistress_Samwise: Salutations, you silly persons! I have returned with another dynamic chapter of "Window To His Soul"! And now, an advertisement. Check out my website! With nearly 1800 hits, tons of movie photos, and oekaki art, try *not* to visit it! http://www.lordoftherings.siteid.net . Thank you. Now… On with the story!_

---

            "Frodo!" Dreena screamed, bolting over to catch him before he fell to the ground. The crowd closed in on the unconscious hobbitlad. Merry, Sam, and Pippin were frozen in shock while Dreena's face streamed with tears.

            "What have you done? He's almost dead, thanks to you!" she sneered, filled with rage and hate.

            "He agreed to it," Lotho answered, appearing only half intoxicated. "Funny, you defending him. Just a while ago, he was doing the same for you." He laughed a deep cutting laugh. "I guess he really is a wimp."

            "Shut up!" Dreena snapped. "Go to hell, you bastard!"

            She pulled Frodo off of the ground and, with Merry and Sam's help, carefully dragged him away. Bilbo, who had come over to see what the fuss was about, spotted Frodo immediately.

            "Oh, Frodo! My dear boy!" he cried, taking his nephew in his arms. "What has happened to him?"

            "He was in a drinking contest, and he passed out," Dreena explained. Bilbo gasped in surprise.

            "What would make him do such a thing?"

            "He was trying to defend me, sir," the hobbitlass replied.

            "You can tell me of it later," Bilbo told Dreena "But I need to get him inside, right away!"

            "Let me and Sam help!" Merry added, concerned.

            "You should stay here," Bilbo stated.

            Dreena stepped up to Bilbo.

            "Let me go with," she said. "It's all my fault that he's like this! The least I can do is help!"

            "Well, you're the only one who can explain this whole thing to me," Bilbo pointed out. "I'm sure he wouldn't have done this without a purpose."

            They then quickly made off for Bag End with much haste while Dreena retold the events leading up until then. Frodo was laid out on his bed. Dreena held her hand against his face.

            "He's burning up, Bilbo! What if he doesn't make it?"

            "Frodo can get through this," Bilbo stated. "He's very stubborn, you know. He is a Baggins, after all."

            "But is there anything we can do for him?"

            Bilbo scratched his head.

            "To tell you the truth, I don't rightly know. He's been sick many times before, but he's never been drunk at the same time… Why couldn't he have told me he was sick sooner? He's always doing this…"

            Dreena threw a worried glance over at Bilbo.

            "But first things first," Bilbo added. "We need to reduce his fever. He may be a fighting spirit, but his body certainly doesn't fare as well. I think I might have something. You'll need to stay here with him, keep him safe. Don't let anybody else in, alright?"

            The hobbitlass nodded in agreement. Bilbo left the room, swiftly closing the door behind him. The bedroom was silent and still. Dreena pulled a chair next to the bed. She placed her hand in front of his face, feeling short weak breaths escape his nose. She then felt his neck for a pulse. There was a faint throb under his damp skin.

            Dreena's eyes watered and her throat tightened against silent sobs.    

_            I have to help him or he'll suffocate!_

            Moving over onto the bed, she carefully propped Frodo up against the headboard. Even thought he was sitting upright, his breathing didn't get any easier. She paused for a moment, thinking about what to do.

            _He must be too hot…_

            Leaning in close to Frodo, Dreena unfastened his collar button. A deep sinking feeling overcame her. She felt scared, being so close to a boy like Frodo, so close to his body, and him not even knowing that she was stripping him of his shirt. Her face burned furiously as she undid one button after the other, exposing more and more of his flesh. After she had removed his shirt, she was able to see his chest slowly rising and falling with each struggled breath.

            _Lotho was right… He is small… But with such a delicate frame, how could he still be alive?_

            She touched his pale, almost translucent skin with her fingertips. He was as hot as fire. Her eyes drifted over to his arm. The handkerchief was red with blood.

_            How could he hate himself enough to do this?_

            She peered up at his face. Even though he almost a full-grown hobbit, he still looked like a young tweenager. Yes… He wanted to be grown up, no longer fearing his past, present, or future. He didn't want to be scared anymore, scared to let somebody get close to him and love him. He wanted to stop being afraid of himself.

            Dreena brought her hand to his face, feeling the heat soak in through her fingers. She brushed his dark brown curls from his forehead. His body seemed so fragile, so pure, but his soul bore an unseen burden that hurt both the physical and spiritual. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

            _I can't imagine the pain he goes through… Why must he suffer so?_

            She could feel his soul trying to reach out for someone, someone to help him understand his life and give it meaning. He was trying to find the other who was looking for him. Whoever it was, They were out there, needing him as much as he needed Them. But who was it?

            Dreena gazed at him, stroking his hair. And she imagined his beautiful blue eyes staring deep into hers… She then pulled her hand away.

_No! I can't do this… What if he doesn't love himself enough to love another?_

---

_"We do not always know others by mistake. Fate brings us together. Fate makes us stay together. Forever, we are bound as one in a love that can last for all eternity. And so that shall be for as long as the universe exists, for it never ends and neither do we."_

---

_mistress_Samwise: What does it all mean? More chapters to come! So, hang low and stay cool, and until then… Ciao!_


	12. The Worse Is Just Beginning

Mistress_Samwise: Howzitgoin? I'm reporting to you LIVE from my computer here in semi-sunny Chicago! That's "shi-ca-go", not "chick-ago". Anyways, as I said, I'm live from my Power Brand Abacus located in my basement, back from my first full day of freshman high school. And let me tell you it's not exciting and might prove to be very time consuming, Bah! o I dun wanna go to school! That means I might not be able to work on these kinds of things as much anymore. But don't worry! I've finished this whole story, so I'll be posting chapters regularly. But if you're keeping track of "LOTR at Half Budget", that might not go as smoothly. So there. Well, what are you waiting for? Go and read!

---

            Just then, Bilbo came back into the room holding a small bottle, damp rags and a teacup. Dreena mumbled something under her breath as she scrambled off of the bed and back into the chair, her face blazing red.

            "Have you tried waking him?" Bilbo asked.

            Dreena seemed very confused for a moment.

            "Uh…" She stuttered. "He's barely breathing and if we don't wake him, he might never be able to again!"

            Bilbo pulled the stopper from the small bottle and handed it to Dreena.

            "We can rouse him with this," Bilbo stated. "It is mint oil."

            Dreena was immediately hit by the oil's powerful aroma. It was strong yet pleasing.

            "Rub it onto his chest," Bilbo instructed while placing the damp rags on Frodo's forehead. "And when he's awake, give him this tea."

            Dreena spread a few drops of oil onto Frodo's chest, messaging it into his skin. She grabbed the wet rag and gently rubbed his forehead. He stirred faintly, inhaling the strong mint scent.

            "He's waking up!" Dreena exclaimed. She rubbed his cheek with the cloth and he opened his eyes to narrow slits.

            "D-Dreena?" Frodo whispered hoarsely, struggling to keep his eyes open. The hobbitlass gripped his hand, letting him know it was her.

            "Yes, it's me, Frodo. Bilbo's here, too."

            Frodo turned his head weakly.

            "Hullo… Uncle Bilbo…"

            The old hobbit smiled warmly.

            "I'm sorry, Dreena…" Frodo barely whispered, sliding down onto his pillow. "I failed you…"

            "Oh, Frodo…" she cooed softly. "Don't be so ashamed of yourself. I'm proud of you… Now, will you drink this? It will help reduce your fever."

            While holding his head in her arms, Dreena placed the teacup to Frodo's lips. He slowly sipped the tea. It slightly tasted medicinal and was only a little bitter. But he could not drink the whole thing and he slumped back into Dreena's arms.

            "I can't drink anymore…"

            Dreena put the cup aside.

            "You can have some more later."

            She rubbed his face with the cool cloth and he closed his eyes. He pressed himself closer to her body while she ran her fingers through his curls.

            "Thank you…"

            Then he either fell asleep or lost consciousness again, but considering the circumstances, it was most likely the latter. Dreena gently shook him, but he would not respond.

            "Frodo…? Wake up! Frodo!" Her voice cracked. "Oh, Frodo! Please wake up!"

            Bilbo was shocked.

            "Oh no! This is bad! You stay here with him while I get a healer. I'm afraid I'm going to have to call off the party…"

            He left the room promptly, muttering to himself. Dreena cradled the hobbitlad in her arms, her tears falling onto him while she buried her face in his hair.

            _Oh, Frodo… Please don't go…_

---

Bilbo raced back to the party, driven by a renewed strength even someone half his age would be surprised to have. He arrived, and already the crowds had grown suspicious of what was happening. Standing upon a chair, he cleared his throat and raised his hands, drawing everyone's attention.

"I have an announcement to make," he stated loudly. The guests hushed, anxious as to what he was going to say. "First of all, I would like to thank all of you for coming. But it appears that my nephew, Frodo, has fallen terribly ill and I'm afraid I will have to call this party short. I apologize."

There were murmurs of disagreement as Bilbo strode off again, Merry, Sam, and Pippin in tow. All four hobbits rushed back to Bag End, straight for Frodo's room.

"What's the matter with him?" Pippin inquired.

"He's sick…" Dreena replied.

"Why won't you wake up, Mister Frodo?" Sam cried, his auburn eyes brimming with tears.

            Dreena said nothing, squeezing the unconscious hobbitlad tightly. The five, excluding Frodo, remained wordless.

            "Is he dead?" Pippin asked timidly, breaking the silence.

            Dreena shook her head.

            "No… He's still alive…" She sank to a whisper. "…Barely…"

            "Don't worry… Any of you…" Bilbo stated while he nervously stuck his hand in his pocket. "Nothing is going to happen to him, and I'll see to that. I'm sure he can make it through…" He drew his hand out from his pocket quickly. "But to be safe, I'll get a healer. Taking risks is not an option any more."

            With that he marched off, determined to save his nephew. The hobbitlads and lass stayed, not daring to leave Frodo. The room was silent and solemn, and the air tense. 

            "What will we do now?" Merry squeaked.

            "I guess all we can do is wait…" Dreena replied, gripping Frodo's hand firmly.

---

Mistress_Samwise: Bwah! Sorry that it was so short… Next up: Where *is* Frodo exactly? And it gets a bit worse! If I can crawl from the bus stop to my keyboard after school, I'll post that chapter soon. (My backpack's already heavy!) T-T Wah…What I need now is a new chapter to "One of These Days"… Ah yes… That would be nice… ^____^


	13. Struggle

Mistress-Samwise: Mwah! Thanks for all of your spiffing reviews! Anyways, I've got a new chapter by popular demand. I am good with cliffhangers? I didn't know that! I think I'm mediocre at best compared to some other stories! *coughcoughathena'sstuffcoughcough* I'll give you this chapter to guess where Frodo is, and it's *not* a dream. That is all.

~~~

            Frodo opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, staring up at a twilight sky eternally stuck between day and night. The tall grass swayed hypnotically in the wind as it brushed against his face. He slowly sat up and peered over above the grass top. The prairie spanned as far as his eyes could see, meeting the dark cobalt sky at a silver horizon. He turned around and saw in the distance what appeared to be a small simple hobbit hole. Standing in front of it was two people, unmoving, as if they were sentinels, silent and waiting. Frodo's hair stood on end as he felt them gaze upon him from afar.

            _No… It can't be…_

            He closed his eyes and shook his head. Gradually opening his eyes, he saw that he was wearing an immaculate white satin shirt with matching knickers; they almost seemed to be glowing in the dim light. He unfastened the first button on his shirt to reveal two bloody slash marks running down from each crook of his neck onto the center of his chest. At their ends was a small wound in the shape of crudely cut circle. He brought his fingers to his wound and winced with pain. He wiped his hand on his pant leg, leaving a long crimson streak. A shiver ran up his spine as he felt the eyes of those two people boring into his soul.

            But that was all of him that they could look into…

~~~

            "Master Hornblower! Master Hornblower!" Bilbo cried, pounding on the bright blue smial door. 'This is an emergency!"

            After a moment, the door swung open and behind it stood a middle-aged hobbit wearing a dark red vest with a long sable overcoat and pants.

            "Bilbo? Bilbo Baggins?" the healer asked, repositioning his glasses. "What's the matter?"

            "It's Frodo," Bilbo said while trying to catch his breath. "He's fallen ill."

            "Where is he?" Dr. Hornblower inquired.

            "He's at home," Bilbo replied. "I wouldn't be able to bring him anyway."

            "Why is that?"

            "He has blacked out and nothing we can do can wake him."

            "What are his symptoms?"

            "Fever… Very high fever."

            "This is serious… I'll be over right away."

            Mr. Hornblower rushed back inside to grab his doctor's bag. He soon returned, and he and Bilbo then departed for Bag End with much haste.

---

            Dreena cradled Frodo in her arms, bathing his brow with cool water. She was silent, as well as the others. Nobody had said anything since Bilbo left. All of a sudden, Frodo squirmed uneasily, grasping at his chest. He let out a muffled cry.

            "Mister Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, grabbing the hobbitlad's hand. "Are you alright?"

            Frodo's eyes were half open; they were icy and glazed over, as if there was no soul behind them. Sam squeaked.

            "Are you awake, Mister Frodo?" He waved his hand in front of Frodo's eyes. The hobbitlad did not respond. Sam threw a worried glance at Dreena. "What's the matter with him? Is he alright?"

            "He must be dreaming," Dreena said. She looked over at Sam, his face marked with sadness. 

            _It must be hard for him to see his friend like this…_

            Just then, Bilbo and Dr. Hornblower burst into the room. Bilbo rushed over to Frodo, taking the young hobbit in his arms.

            "Oh, Frodo my lad!" he cried. The healer strode over and examined the hobbitlad.

            "Here, let me see the child."

            He placed his hand on Frodo's warm forehead. He then felt for his pulse, noting its slow intervals.

            "This is bad," Dr. Hornblower stated. He paused, thinking.  "But I think I have just the medicine for this." He opened his doctor's bag and dug around in it. After pulling out a small vial and bow, he set them aside and turned around again.

            "Also, if I may ask where he got that cut on his arm?" he asked. "It seems to be a serious wound."

            Dreena's eyes widened in shock at the mention of Frodo's cut.

            "Uhh… He, uh…" she stammered. She quickly put together an alibi, "He was, ah… Yeah, he and I were walking back to Bag End and he, uh, tripped and cut himself on a tree branch. It was a rather unpleasant affair."

            "I see," the doctor replied. "This really hasn't been his day today, right?"

            "I'll say…" Dreena muttered.

            "Well, just give me a moment to prepare the medicine," Dr. Hornblower said. The others watched anxiously as he quickly mixed the ingredients in a small mortar and pestle.

            "I will need to put this in some hot water," he stated. "Could you prepare some, Bilbo?"

            Bilbo nodded and quickly made off for the kitchen. Frodo shifted about uneasily, peering out from under his half open eyelids.

            "Where am I…?" he asked dreamily. "Why am I here…?"

            Dreena gripped his hand tightly.

            "Shh…" she cooed softly, stroking his brow. "You're at home… Don't worry…"

            It seemed like an eternity until Bilbo came back. Dr. Hornblower emptied the medicine into the steaming mug and mixed it around.

            "Here," he said while handing it to Dreena. "Give this to him and do try to see that he drinks as much of it as he can."

            Dreena tilted Frodo's head back and placed the mug to his lips. She slowly drained it into his mouth, waiting to see if he would swallow the liquid. He struggled weakly as the medicine was poured into his mouth, but he eventually let Dreena empty the entire mug down his throat. Slumping back into her arms, he lost consciousness again. 

            "This medicine will reduce his fever," Dr. Hornblower explained. "It is a very powerful sedative, though.  It will be hard for us to wake him, so we will have to wait until the fever's passed for him to wake up again. Along with his medication, give him lots of liquids, like broth, so he doesn't starve. I'll leave you enough medicine for three days, but if you need anything else, just visit me and I'll be right over."

            After gathering up all of his things, Dr. Hornblower departed from Bag End. It was late in the night, but none of the younger hobbits left Frodo's room. Dreena's father, Mr. Longburrow, came in for his daughter, but she refused to leave Frodo's side. Mr. Longburrow agreed to let Dreena stay as long as he and his wife were able to use one of Bilbo's guest rooms. So Dreena stayed with Frodo until she fell asleep with him in her arms. She could not bear to part with him, for she felt that she had a connection with him; that her very presence seemed to help him. Her heart went out to this hobbitlad who was painfully struggling to stay alive.

            _Don't give up, Frodo… Live…_

---

_Mistress-Samwise: Bwah hah hah! Gotcha again, didn't I? *nonchalantly* Well, mayhap I'll post another chapter…I dunno… Mayhap, mayhap not… But only if you want me to, that is. I mean, if you don't want to find out what happens next is fine with me, but you gotta tell me what you want. What you really, really want. *gets a double D battery whipped at her head* I'll shut up now. _


	14. Fading Hope

Mistress-Samwise: Hmm. Maybe more of you will review this time. You're gonna love this! And just wait for the end! Mwah hah hah hah! *grins evilly* Mayhap I'll give you one more chance to guess where Frodo is. But you'll need to read to find out. And I'll let you do that. P.S. Elvish translations at the bottom.

~~~

_Where am I…? Why am I here…?_

_            Frodo woke to the soft sound of wind blowing overhead. He wearily opened his eyes to see that he was in the same ethereal place as he was before. The sky had not changed since he left and neither had his clothing. He still found the cuts on his chest as they were before, but not as bloody. Jumping to his feet, Frodo saw in the distance, a little farther than before, the same two ghostly figures standing in front of the small smial by its door, waiting._

            _Do you want me to come…?_

            Just then, all light vanished as darkness enveloped him once more, and the vision passed.

~~~

            A day passed… Frodo did not wake from his deep sleep. His fever often dropped, only to rise again, as if jesting with all of the spectators watching this cruel game it was playing with Frodo's body. 

_            Fight it, Frodo… I know you can win…_

_            It is hard… I try to, but I can't… A part of me wants to stay, stay here with you… But a part of me wants to go, leaving the pain and suffering behind… Life or death… The choice is more difficult than you can imagine…_

            On the second day, Frodo's fever did not go down.

            "I've tried every medicine I have," Dr. Hornblower said regretfully. "I'm sorry… The only thing we can do is wait…"

            "I've known you all my life, Frodo," Merry stated. "I couldn't stand to see you go. Not here, not now!"

            For the rest of the day, nobody said anything, for the thought of Frodo dying was too painful to bear.

---

            _Ona amin coia… / Ona amin gurth…*_

            Opening his eyes, Frodo saw the all-too-familiar sight of twilight skies. His hand drifted to his chest, but swiftly drew it back at the touch of blood. The wound was still there, now bleeding more than it did before. He slowly stood up. He was closer to the hobbit hole now, and the two other people. They hadn't moved at all, and they seemed closer than ever. He still couldn't see their faces, but their piercing stare was nearly enough to kill him right then and there.  He felt himself being drawn into them, but he didn't know if he wanted to struggle against it or not. But he unwillingly took one step forward, and he was plunged into a shapeless darkness again.

_            Coia en' gurth…?*_

_~~~_

            The moon hung in a gloomy night sky. Not even the crickets chirruped, making the silence even stronger. And when the soft chimes of the clock (an interesting device, half conceived by the dwarves and half by Gandalf) out in the hall rang twelve times, it signaled the third day since Frodo had fallen terribly ill. Dreena stirred in her sleep.

            "Ohh… What time is it…?"

            She yawned while stretching her arms, accidentally hitting Sam in the head.

            "Hey…" he said, only half-awake.

            Dreena sat for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. Then her eyes snapped open.

            "Oh no!" she exclaimed. "We fell asleep!"

            The others quickly woke up, except, of course, Frodo.

            "What's the matter?" Bilbo asked tiredly.

            "We must have dozed off without knowing it!" Dreena replied.

            Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck.

            "Well, we were wake for nearly nineteen hours… Ugg, my neck hurts…"

            Dreena checked Frodo's temperature and breathing, placing her ear to his chest.

            "It's worse than before… He's barely even breathing…"

            "What are we going to do, Mister Bilbo?" Sam inquired, his eyes brimming with tears.

            Bilbo did not know what to say. His face was dark and solemn.

            "Is he suffering?" Pippin said, slightly scared.

            Bilbo drew his hand into his pocket. He was silent for a moment.

            "Let's wait a little longer… And… And if…" He paused. "We can see what to do later… Not yet…"

            He squeezed his nephew's hand tightly, knowing that this might be one of the last times he could hold Frodo's hand while he was still alive…

---

            The first thing Frodo felt was pain. He looked down to see the slash marks on his chest dripping with blood. His white shirt was now stained red and he took it off, casting it aside into the long grass. He struggled to his feet, nearly collapsing in pain.  Bringing his hands to his wound, he tried to stop the blood from rolling down his chest.  Soundless voices were calling to him, drawing him in closer. He peered up to at the smial in front of him, only yards away.  But he nearly cried in shock at sight that next met his eyes.

            _Mom…? Dad…?_

~~~

Mistress-Samwise: Fu fu fu fu fu! *big, giant, evil grin* 

*1. "Give me life… Give me death…"

*2. "Life or death…?"


	15. The Birds Were Singing

Mistress-Samwise: This is a short chapter, but you're gonna hate me for it! *coughcougcliffhangercoughcough* That's all for now. *evil grin*

---

            As the stars faded from the sky, the sun's first rays could be seen peeking out from under the horizon. The birds sang, cheerfully mocking the hobbits at Bag End, oblivious to the drama that was unfolding at that very moment. Bilbo was kneeing on the floor, one hand in his pocket and the other clenched about Frodo's.  Dreena nervously stroked Frodo's brown curls, watching his chest rise and fall with each slow breath. 

            His breathing's so slow… A little too slow…

            She stared intently, waiting for him to draw in another breath. But he didn't.

            "No no no…" she said under her breath. "This can't be happening…"

            She placed her ear to his chest and listened for a heartbeat. It was weak and delayed.

            "Wake up, Frodo…" She gently shook him. "Come on… Breathe…! Breathe!"

            Bilbo stood up, his eyes wide in shock.

            "What's the matter with him?"

            "He's stopped breathing!" Dreena's voice cracked.  "Come on…!"

            Bilbo immediately burst into tears.

            "Oh, Frodo, my dear boy!" He took the hobbitlad into his arms. "… Don't die…"

            "Mister Frodo!" Sam cried, his face streaming with tears. "Please don't do this to us!"

            Every hobbit in the room was sobbing. And the birds were singing with the rising sun.

---

Mistress-Samwise: If you hated that ending, you're going to kill me for the next chapter! *very, very evil grin* But you'll have to wait for that. In the meanwhile, check out my website please! ^___________________________^


	16. Fate

Mistress-Samwise: I felt bad after TWO of you yelled at me for having such a short chapter. *takes a rolled up newspaper and whacks at a spider until it disintegrates* As you can tell, I'm not happy right now. GIVE ME REVIEWS OR I'LL EAT YOUR SOUL! Mwu hah hah hah hah hah! This is what three weeks in high school does to you. You're ready to kill anything that gets you the slightest bit angry. But if you don't review this chapter, you have serious problems.

The answer to where Frodo is… *drum roll* Limbo! Not the party game, you silly git. Bah, he's between life and death, so "Nah!" His wound stands for his future. The closer he gets to death, the bloodier it gets. And you'll see what I mean in this chapter. Ho yeah. You're gonna slice me in two with a bread knife when you're done with this chapter. But you'll have to read it first. So do that.

---

            _Why are you still here…?_

            Frodo clasped at his chest with his bloodied hands, burning with pain. In front of him stood his parents… Or at least their souls. 

_            Why are you still here…? Were you waiting for me…?_

            They did not answer. They only stood still, standing by the hobbit hole door. Frodo then found himself being pulled closer and closer. He stepped forward, each step getting heavier and heavier.

_            What do you want me to do…? _

            Still, they did not answer. The blood flowed out from under Frodo's hands, falling onto the ground. His eyes filled with tears, spilling onto his face, dripping off to mingle with the blood on his body.

_            … Do you want me… to die…?_

            Frodo grew weary and gave up all his power, all his free will, and stopped resisting his fate. He trudged forward, his hands dropping to his sides, leaving blood on his trousers.  His body screamed with pain, but he kept going.

            _… Then I choose death… I want to die…_

            He walked past his parents and he now stood in front of the door.  Slowly he extended his arm, his bloodied hand meeting the doorknob. And with the last of his strength, he turned it…

"No!"

~~~

Mistress-Samwise: Four words: Wait for next chapter. That is all.


	17. Gandalf

Mistress-Samwise: Wah! You can't kill me now! This is one of the two (three) last chapters! Yes. You heard me right. Only a few more and this'll be done forever! Don't cry.

_Anywho, I guess that this is better late then never: Fan appreciation. My most loyal reviewers in no particular order. Demonic-Kiwi: Thanks for droppin' by! You've been great! And if you are a real Kiwi, would you mind going to my site and signing my Guest Map? I have had an Aussie and a Brit sign it, and all I need is a Kiwi! I would love you forever! Elerrna Wood: My dear sweet Elernna… You've been with me since the very beginning. I am in your debt. *bows low*  Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. CrystalHorse72: Grazi! Much appreciated. Thanks for stickin' around! ^_________^ Ancalime: Great… Do you know how much harder you just made this for me? But I love you anyways! *hugs* Tiggivon: It's been a long road, has it not? Thanks for being with me so long! Funny Face: Ahh… Another veteran. Thanks for all of the support! It really helps me. Blue Jedi Hobbit 009: Domo arigato, Jedi-san. May the force be with you… always. Talking Hawk: Yo! I love your company… But where'd you go? *teary anime eyes* Sigh… hanks you anyways. Erendil: Gee… I'm so happy that you've been with me for so long! Thank you for your support!_

_Thank you everyone, even if your name is here or not! You've all helped me so much since the beginning. Don't any of you worry… I am far from my swan song, so expect future works from me, Mistress-Samwise! *winks* Now… Don't you have a story to read?_

---

            Frodo's eyes shot open.

            "_Aiya!" he screamed, whipping himself up. Immediately, he caught sight of a tall man with a long gray beard standing in the doorway, wearing gray robes, a big floppy pointed hat, and a silver scarf. Frodo stared in amazement._

            "Gandalf?"

            "Yes, Frodo, it is me," Gandalf replied, smiling warmly.

            Bilbo and the others turned around to see Gandalf behind them.

            "Gandalf!" Bilbo exclaimed, running over to hug the wizard. "You always seem to know just when to show up!"

            "You shouldn't be hugging me, old friend," Gandalf stated. "You should be hugging your nephew. He's the one that's supposed to be dead, not me."

            "Of course! Silly me!" Bilbo squeezed Frodo tightly.

            "Ow… You can let go now…" Frodo laughed. "You're hurting me!"

            "Oh, Frodo! You had us so worried!" Bilbo squeezed Frodo even harder. "We thought you had really died!"

            "Ouch…" Frodo squeaked. He was finally released from uncle's grasp, just to be hugged by Sam.

            "Mister Frodo, Mister Frodo!" He was now weeping tears of joy. " I missed you so much! Oh, don't ever leave me again!"

            "Oh, Sam! I wasn't even dead for five minutes!" Frodo chuckled.

            "Even one second is too much!" Sam replied, squeezing Frodo tightly. The hobbitlad was soon ambushed by his cousins; escape now seemed impossible. But when his eyes met Dreena's, she just blushed and smiled. He smiled back.

            "I'm sorry, but may I speak to Gandalf alone?" Frodo asked.

            "Yes, of course," Bilbo answered.  He and the rest of the hobbits exited from the room.

            "What did you need to discuss with me?" Gandalf inquired, sitting down on a chair next to Frodo.

            "How did you know I was dying? How did you know when to come?" Frodo said.

            "It was a feeling I had," Gandalf replied, winking.

            Frodo shook his head and chuckled.

            "It's a funny thing… Before, when I was dreaming, I think, and I heard your voice. And I think that is what woke me up… Do you know–"

            "If it was me?" Gandalf broke in. "Who knows?" There was a sparkle in his eyes. "Dreams are mysterious things, Frodo Baggins."

            Frodo smiled, leaning back on the headboard. Gandalf caught sight of his bandaged arm.

            "You know, Frodo," he said, suddenly becoming very serious. "It is not wise to seek power through destruction…"

            Frodo lowered his eyes in shame.

            "I saw them…" Frodo said after a long silence. "I saw my parents in my dream… They didn't say anything, but the very sight of them made me want to die…" He paused. "And, sometimes, I wish I could do that…"

            "Frodo, my lad," Gandalf placed his hand on the hobbitlad's shoulder. "It was not your fault that they died. It was nobody's fault. Blaming yourself does not offer closure, and killing yourself will not solve anything, either." He reached into his robes and drew out Frodo's pocketknife. It burned especially bright in the wizard's hands. "Evidently, somebody out there wants you to live. But the people here want you to live, too… And don't you ever forget that, Frodo."

            He handed the knife to Frodo. It flashed with an Elven light. Frodo stared at it wordlessly.

            "_Elbereth forgive me…" he found himself saying. He sighed a long surrendering sigh and put the blade aside. "I guess you're right, anyway, Gandalf… You always are."_

            "I suppose you could say that," Gandalf smiled. He stood up and left the room, leaving Frodo by himself. 

            "Heh…" he laughed.

            _Wizards are the most curious things… They're never around when you want them, but they're always around when you need them… I'm not even going to ask how he knew so much about what happened to me. But I don't think I'll ever completely figure old Gandalf out…_

---

Mistress-Samwise: It ain't over yet! One (two) more to go! But I'm in a dilemma. Should I post what's reverent, or what's right? I'm thinking that I'll post both, but… I'm not sure. There is a difference between the two, except one might make you confused why I put it there. I'm telling you in advance that I, as an author, thought it was necessary, for it contributes to future story lines (way future). After reading it, you might be like "What was that all about? Seemed pretty gratuitous to me." but I'm telling you I'll need it for later (and "before")! What I mean is that I've got another story up my sleeve entitled "Jaded", taking place immediately after Frodo's parents drown. It's a Frodo-meets-Sam-and-is-really-angsty-at-the-same-time kind of story, sort of like Athena's "One of These Days". Then that one will lead up to, perhaps, a War of the Ring fic, and then finish off with a "bang!" in a post-LOTR fic. The "bang!" is more like a blow to the head rather than an explosion. Heh heh. 

_So, in short, I've got angst to come. When I'll get back to "LOTR at Half Budget", I don't know. It's on hiatus, out of sight but not mind. I've got plenty of fiction to come, my friends, don't you worry. I'll just have to see if Maine High School will let me. But I swear to Eru that I'll never abandon you! Never, never, never! Even if it means spewing out a clichéd mess of a story, I'll cling to this oath! Cling until my nails fall out and my computer literally explodes in my face, sending burning hot shards of monitor glass into my eyes, blinding me, causing me to make my sister write it all for me. Stick with me, and you'll never go fic hungry again!_

_HAMLET: Yeah right._

_Mistress-Samwise: Shuddup, you lousy sock puppet. As I was sayi-_

_The following author's ramblings have been cut off by order of the Bureau of Sanity Preservation. We apologize._


	18. A Last Meeting

_Mistress-Samwise: After much deliberation, I have finally decided to post only one chapter: the original last chapter. Now, you will prolly hate me for it, BUT… There is importance! Yes! Really! And if anyone tries to whip anything at my head, I have a shield. *holds up garbage can lid* Eeek! Don't hurt me!_

_And I was too lazy to reformat this, and I'm beginning to tire of this story._

_Also, before I leave you to your reading, pay attention to the dialogue! Everything important is in there. That's all._

---

            Frodo laid out on the grass, staring up at the sapphire night sky, the ancient stars twinkling as the young moon waxed to its full.  From on top of Bag End, he could see far out across Hobbiton and the Shire. He was lost in deep thought, thinking about what Gandalf told him earlier. He then sat up on his knees as he heard someone approach.

            "It's me," Dreena said, tentatively stepping out from behind Frodo. "I just wanted to see where you were." She sat down beside him and let out a quiet sigh.

            "You're leaving, aren't you?" Frodo asked, still looking out across the fields to the horizon.

            "Tonight," she replied. "I'll probably be going soon—"

            "I realize now that you were the one who held me when I was sick," Frodo stated, cutting Dreena off. He looked over at her. She only nodded, blushing.

            "You've only known me four days," he continued. "And yet you make it seem as if you've known me for years…"

            "I knew you were different, right from the first moment I saw you," she said, peering over at him.

            "I noticed the same about you."

            "There was something in my heart… Something that told me that I should stay with you… I know we did not meet by mistake."

            Frodo did not say anything, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

            "You wish to be somewhere else, don't you?" she asked.

            "Yes… And no…" Frodo answered. "I want to belong… But I'm always out of place… How I long for something to hold on to, person, place, or otherwise… But it's always out of reach…"

            Dreena took Frodo's hand in hers.

            "It doesn't have to be."

            She softly kissed him on his lips, and lingered for a moment, until Frodo pulled himself away.

            "I can't…"

            Dreena placed her hands on his face and looked deep into his crystal blue eyes, the windows to his soul.

            "Please, Frodo… Let somebody love you… Let me give you my love…"

            She kissed him again, longer and deeper. Frodo gave into the euphoria, no longer resisting her. He felt the brush of her lips on his neck as her hand strayed to his shirt collar. Before he knew it, he was lying on his back in the grass, his shirt half open. She kissed him on his collarbone, slowly unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. A shiver of pleasure ran up his spine as she caressed his body his her hands, feeling his hot supple skin under her fingers. The throb of his heart pressed hard against her fingertips. She brought her lips to his middle, the heat from his body warming her face. He shuddered with bliss as he felt her intoxicating touch upon his body.

            "Oh, Dreena…"

            He drew himself away from her lips, only to press his against hers. He kissed her passionately, his tongue deep within her hot mouth. She fell onto her back, and she felt his lips on her throat as he gently sucked on her neck. His body was numb with pleasure as he slowly brought his lips lower.

            _I cannot find power through destruction, but maybe…_

            He kissed her upon her collarbone and then a little lower. She squirmed with delight as she felt his hot breath upon her body, his lips playfully caressing her skin.

            "Ooo, Frodo…"

            His heart raced with exhilaration as he kissed her lower and lower. He then found himself fingering the laces on her corset…

            _No! I can't control her with love!_

            His euphoria broke and he pulled himself away from her body.

            "I can't do this!" he cried, fumbling with his shirt, trying to button it up. "It's not right!"

            "Frodo—"

            "Please forgive me, Dreena…! I feel so ashamed…"

"It's not your fault…"

            "No! It's all my fault! I can't love you…" His voice cracked. "I don't deserve you!"

            "But I still love you!"

            "Can't you see it, Dreena…? We weren't meant to be!"

Dreena's eyes filled with tears.

            "Oh, Frodo!"

            She embraced him, placing her head on his bare chest and pressing her body close to his. For what seemed like an eternity they laid in each other's arms, silent, staring up at the starry sky. He gently rocked back and forth, trying to comfort the hobbitlass.

            _How come we can't love each other?_

_            They're still out there… Looking for me… My soul mate… My angel with snow-white wings… But you aren't Them… I was too desperate for love… I still don't know who I am, and how can I love someone if I don't even love myself…?_

            "Why does it feel like I'm never going to see you again?" Frodo asked, running his fingers through her moonlit hair. She slowly stood up.

            "Maybe that's what's supposed to happen…"

            And with that, Dreena turned around and walked away down the hill, and disappeared out of Frodo's life as fast as she came in, never to be seen by him again.

---

Mistress-Samwise: *emerges from a pile of double D batteries, bricks, baseballs, and Molotov cocktails* Fu fu fu fu fu! It's not the ending you want, but it's the only one that makes sense. Plus I can't have Frodo running off with that chick when I have *other* plans for him. Oh, yes, my precious… Yesssss… *ahem*

_Next up, "Jaded", my new story! I'll post it *real* soon, some time between later today and tomorrow. So… Stay tuned! And please don't hurt me! *cowers*_


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